


Baby, You're My Style

by riots



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, First Time, Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-10
Updated: 2014-10-10
Packaged: 2018-02-20 14:20:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2431952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riots/pseuds/riots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>for the prompt 'secretly a virgin kris ft 'wishes-he-was-assertive' kai'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baby, You're My Style

You're staring," Lu Han tells him. He takes a sip of his beer and then flashes a knowing smile at Jongin. Behind him, face buried in Lu Han's neck, Yixing laughs.

Jongin scowls. He hates how smug Lu Han is. He also hates how well he holds his alcohol. How is he still so clear-eyed? It's not fair. Jongin clutches his red cup and glares at the two of them. "Am not," Jongin insists, even though it's a baldfaced lie. "He just happened to like, walk into my line of sight."

"Repeatedly," Lu Han says dryly. "And just stayed there." Lu Han is not a friend. He is a mischief demon in the guise of a weirdly childlike senior. Jongin's sure of it.

"I hate you," he says conversationally.

Yixing reaches out with an unsteady hand and scratches Jongin under the chin. "No, you don't," he says, smiling placidly. He leans his head against Lu Han's. "I like freshman. They're so easy."

"Both of you," Jongin glowers.

Before he can reply, Lu Han is distracted by Yixing making a quick play for his beer. "You know, if you'd just go talk to him, we wouldn't make so much fun of you. He's not nearly as cool as you think he is, I promise." He holds his cup out of Yixing's grasp and Yixing grumbles.

Talk to him. Just walk up to senior and secretary of student council, Yifan and strike up a casual conversation, because he talks to freshmen types all the time. Jongin sneaks a glance at him out of the corner of his eye. Yifan is standing in the kitchen talking to Zitao, and he's all long, graceful lines. Who wears a lavender button up to a college party? He looks stupid hot. Jongin wrinkles up his nose and rubs a hand across the back of his neck. "Easier said than done," he grumbles.

Suddenly, Lu Han's face lights up, and Jongin has never seen anything so unsettling in his entire life. "Oh look," Lu Han says, delighted. "Speak of the devil."

Jongin freezes. Great. "The devil?" Yifan asks. His voice is low and amused. "I don't know whether to be flattered or offended."

"Flattered," Yixing suggests, his voice muffled against the cloth of Lu Han's shirt. His head lolls against Lu Han's shoulder. "You like it."

"You're right," Yifan agrees. Jongin does his best not to stare, hiding behind his cup. Up close, Yifan is even more striking. Jongin's a little bit fascinated by the profile of his nose. Oh, this is embarrassing. He flushes, and hopes he can pass it off as being drunk. "Jongin, right? What's your major again?"

He sticks his hand out and holy crap, his hands are enormous. Jongin grips it firmly. He wants to make this impression stick. He remembers the last time they'd met, a hurried greeting in the cafeteria at a time of day that he considers inhuman (nine in the morning). The conversation had almost gone well until Jongin had realized he was late for class, jumped up, and nearly stumbled into a doorway. Well done, Kim Jongin. "Right," he says. At least he's memorable, he supposes.

"He's a freshman dance major," Yixing says, words a bit slurred. He smiles. "He works so hard. It's adorable." He pinches Jongin's cheek and Jongin yelps and slaps his hand away. They're like the embarrassing older brothers he never once asked for.

"Dance major, right.” Yifan smirks a little, and Jongin ducks his head, avoiding his eyes.

“I'm not usually that clumsy,” he insists.

“I'm sure,” Yifan reassures him. He eyes Lu Han and Yixing suspiciously. “I'm not gonna lie, it's kind of a relief that they have someone else to pick on," Yifan says. His mouth twists up in a crooked smile. "I'm Yifan."

Jongin's nodding before he even realizes it. "Of course, I remember," he says, and immediately flushes. He's good at this, clearly. "I mean - " Lu Han lets out a sharp laugh, clapping a hand to his mouth. He at least has the good grace to look sorry.

Luckily enough though, Yifan is smiling at him. "Have they been sharing my dirty secrets?" he asks, and holy crap. Out of the corner of his eye, Jongin watches Yifan look him up and down thoughtfully. It sends an immediate thrill through him, his fingertips tingling. Or, he squints into his cup suspiciously. What exactly was Chanyeol putting in these, anyway?

"No," Lu Han says indignantly. "We do that in front of you. It's funnier when you squirm." Yixing nods vehemently in agreement, his small hands digging into the fabric of Lu Han's sweater as he laughs.

Yifan sighs long-sufferingly. "They're terrible people, aren't they?" He lays a companionable arm across Jongin's shoulders and Jongin has to actively resist the urge to lean into him. He's more solid than he looks. It's pretty great.

"The worst," Jongin agrees, and Lu Han wiggles his eyebrows at them.

"Yixing," he says. "I think we should go freshen my drink."

He hooks an arm around Yixing's waist and steers him away, and Yixing lets his hand trail across Yifan's chest as they pass. "Have fun," he says cheerfully.

Jongin turns bright red. "So," he says, after an excruciatingly long pause. "This is your place? It's. It's nice."

"Thanks," Yifan says easily. He hasn't let his arm fall from Jongin's shoulders yet. His eyes on Jongin are steady and speculative. "Did you want to see my room?"

There's no way to misinterpret that. Jongin's chest tightens. “Oh. Oh, yeah,” he says, way too quickly, and Yifan grins. He steers them towards the hallway and Jongin's skin is humming with anticipation. Tonight is turning out way better than he'd ever hoped it would.

Yifan's room isn't all that big, and mostly tidy. His bed is made, and Jongin flops down on it, looking up at Yifan. “Nice room,” he comments, and Yifan snorts, cupping Jongin's chin with one big hand.

“I didn't bring you here to show off my bedspread,” he mumbles, and then he's pressing his mouth to Jongin's.

The beer makes Jongin a bit unsteady, and that's the excuse he's going with for why he reaches up instinctively, gripping the front of Yifan's shirt and pulling him in close. Yifan fits himself between Jongin's legs, bending to meet him. Yifan's mouth is hot and slick and he tastes like something way more expensive than the cheap beer he'd been serving everyone. It's perfect. “Not bad for a freshman,” Yifan laughs against Jongin's mouth, and Jongin can't even bring himself to be offended.

Jongin digs his teeth into Yifan's lip in retaliation. “Don't underestimate me.” Yifan's hand slides from Jongin's jaw to the back of his neck. His grip is firm and a bit possessive and it sends a jolt of pure heat through Jongin.

Yifan licks insistently into Jongin's mouth, gently pushing him back against the bed until they're both stretched out comfortably. Jongin is more than willing to follow Yifan's lead, already breathless and a little bit hard. Above him, Yifan is lean and solid, one big hand tangled in Jongin's thick hair, the other splayed across Jongin's ribs. He's wiggled a knee between Jongin's thighs, grinding down against him and Jongin whines a little, hips jerking up in search of more friction.

“Already?” Yifan asks.

Jongin flushes. “Shut up,” he grumbles. He fastens his mouth to the sleek line of Yifan's throat and sucks a dark mark into his skin. Finally, Yifan lets out a groan and Jongin feels a giddy rush of satisfaction. There we go.

Feeling bold, Jongin pushes a hand down between them and rubs his palm firmly against Yifan's growing erection. He loves the little moans it teases out of Yifan's hips and the way that he rocks his hips down against Jongin's hand, just a little, like he can't help himself. Jongin grins and catches Yifan's mouth with his again, shifting his hand up so his fingers can scrabble eagerly at Yifan's belt.

Yifan gasps and freezes, and Jongin instantly jerks his hands away. “What?” he asks. “What's wrong?”

“Hold on.” For the first time since Jongin met him, Yifan flushes and looks truly embarrassed. “I've never done this before.”

Jongin snorts. “Sure,” he laughs, stretching up to kiss him again. When Yifan doesn't respond, he stops. Yifan swallows, and he's flushed and not in the way that Jongin really wants. “Wait. Seriously?”

“Yeah.” Yifan's eyes are everywhere but on Jongin and he carefully sits up.

Jongin blinks. That was...not something he'd expected. “Are you...okay?” he asks hesitantly. What do you say in this situation? Especially when you're sitting on the guy's bed with a hard on. “Like, are you gonna freak out or something?”

Yifan tips his head and affixes Jongin with his best derisive stare. “Just because I haven't hooked up with a guy before doesn't make me a _monk_. Or a teenage girl.”

“Sorry!” Jongin scratches at the back of his head. He's so bad at this. “But seriously, are you cool? Do you want me to like, go?” He kind of doesn't want to. Half of that, admittedly, is because if there's a chance he can keep kissing Yifan, he wants to get it, but the other half is how Yifan looks right now. His shoulders are a little hunched, and his mouth is twisted with apprehension. So he takes a chance. “I mean, I can stay. Making out with you was pretty great.” He holds up a hand. “But we don't have to do anything, so, y'know, no pressure.”

This startles a laugh out of Yifan, and a genuine smile. “What a gentleman,” he says dryly. Jongin doesn't reply, just shifts to sit up, doing his best to inconspicuously cover his crotch. Seriously inconvenient. Yifan clears his throat. His ears are still red. “I kind of want you to stay?” Jongin perks up a little at that. “If my whole revelation didn't make you want to run for the hills.”

Jongin shakes his head so fast he gets a little dizzy. “Nope,” he says. “I mean, it kinda makes you less intimidating.”

Yifan tips his head. “I'm intimidating, huh.” It's not a question, but his shoulders are relaxing. Hesitantly, Jongin rests a hand on Yifan's knee and shuffles a little closer to him. “No wonder you have trouble meeting my eye.”

“I do not!” Jongin argues, punching Yifan in the knee. Yifan shouts and shoves him away. Jongin _knows_ that he shouldn't find his weird, gummy grin so attractive, but it kind of makes him want to lick his way down Yifan's chest. “I”m doing pretty well now, aren't I?” Defiantly, he throws his head back and stares at Yifan.

It's not easy to hold. Yifan covers Jongin's hand with his, leaning in until their faces are an inch apart, his gaze pretty heated. Jongin swallows. He hovers for a second, waiting for Yifan to close the distance, but he never does. Looks like it's up to him. Hesitantly, he kisses Yifan again, fingertips light against Yifan's throat, and he's rewarded when Yifan hums, pleased. “Is this okay?” Jongin asks.

Yifan's fingers tighten around Jongin's, and his breath stutters against Jongin's lips. “Yeah. So okay.” Jongin doesn't really need a whole lot more encouragement. He grabs at Yifan's shirt again and hastily pulls him in close.

His cardigan is soft in Jongin's grip and his mouth opens easily under Jongin's. Jongin can feel Yifan relax into it, letting himself lean into Jongin's touch, but he's still cautious. When his fingers make their slow way to the buttons on Yifan's shirt, Jongin takes a second to pause and raise his eyebrows.

Yifan seems taken aback by Jongin's thoughtfulness, watching him for a second. Jongin wishes he could tell what he's thinking, but he's not yet familiar enough with what's going on behind Yifan's eyes. Not yet.

He must reach some kind of decision, because Yifan starts pulling off his cardigan on his own, and after a second, his shirt underneath. Jongin scrambles to follow his lead, not wanting him to feel awkward. He gets stuck halfway, tangling himself up in his eagerness, elbows caught over his head. Nicely done, Kim Jongin. For a dance major, he's kind of great at getting himself in these stupid situations.

Jongin struggles for a few seconds, getting flustered and overheated, until Yifan laughs. Jongin feels big hands pull at his shirt and it only takes a moment of joint effort before he's free again. Yifan lets Jongin's shirt hit the floor. The back of his is hand pressed to his mouth in a clear attempt to cover up his laughter. Jongin's hair is staticky and a mess now, but he can't help but grin. Yifan's shoulders are nice and broad and Jongin leans in, brushing a hand across Yifan's nipple. That gets him a shudder, Yifan's throat working as he carefully curls long fingers around the back of Jongin's neck.

It's kind of funny, seeing this side of Yifan, caution and hesitation in his every movement. Jongin never thought he'd have to be the one taking the lead, but as he nudges Yifan back onto the bed, fastening his teeth to the spot where his neck meets his shoulder, he thinks maybe he'll pull it off.

Yifan settles back, one hand still holding Jongin's head close, the other sliding down the line of Jongin's back. Jongin takes a breather from marking up Yifan's pale skin to arch into the touch like a cat. Yifan laughs, and, daringly, pushes his fingertips under the waistband of Jongin's jeans.

His expression is funny, this weird mix of concentration and excitement, like he's stoked on getting to make out shirtless but concerned that he's somehow doing it wrong. “Relax, hyung,” Jongin mutters, mouthing wetly from the sharp line of Yifan's jaw down to his collarbones. He likes the way Yifan is built, the way he tapers in from broad shoulders to his waist. Yifan grumbles wordlessly and Jongin sits back for a second. “No, seriously, dude. I'm nineteen. I like it when _anyone_ other than me puts their hands on my dick, much less a super hot dude like yourself. So quit thinking.”

Yifan stares at him for a second and then he covers his face with his hands, laughing. “Oh my god.”

“Stop!” Jongin grabs Yifan's wrists and pins them above his head. “If you do that, I can't kiss you. And you don't want that.” The heat in Yifan's eyes makes him feel bold, and when he kisses Yifan again, it's sloppy and dirty and so hot. He only manages to hold on to Yifan for a moment before he was wiggling free, hooking his fingers in Jongin's belt loops to pull him close.

“I guess I don't,” Yifan agrees easily, and Jongin is delighted by the strain he hears in his voice. He's kind of honoured, really, that he's the first one to do this with Yifan, and he wants to do it right the first time around. He fits himself between Yifan's long legs, shifting forward so his weight is resting on his elbows and he can grind down, hard.

It really doesn't take long until Yifan brings his legs up to bracket Jongin's hips and arches up into him. They're both wearing jeans and the friction is reaching kind of painful levels, but Jongin is lost in the heat of Yifan's body pressed against him.

When he can't stand it anymore, he reluctantly pulls away. Sitting back on his heels, he gets to admire the sight of Yifan sprawled on the bed, his normally carefully coiffed hair mussed, and eyes half-lidded with pleasure. “Can I?” he asks, tapping his fingertips meaningfully against his belt.

In answer, Yifan nimbly undoes Jongin's belt, popping the button and raising an eyebrow. It sends sparks ricocheting through Jongin, lips pulling out in a huge smile. He has to awkwardly half-stand to haul his jeans down, but he manages, his boxer-briefs following. He's left kneeling between Yifan's legs, naked and a little bit nervous.

He has nothing to worry about, though. Yifan is staring at him like he's never seen anything better. “Whoa,” he says.

“Want some help?” Jongin hooks a finger in Yifan's waistband, but he doesn't pull until Yifan meets his eye and nods. Then he can't get Yifan's expensive jeans off him fast enough. Jongin kneels back again to take one long, lingering look at Yifan, before meeting his eyes again. “Not bad,” he says, but he grins.

“Oh good,” Yifan says. He shifts uncomfortably under Jongin's eyes for a second, and Jongin frowns. He doesn't like that. His hand falls to Yifan's hip and he drags his thumb down the crease of his thigh.

“So do you have any like, supplies?” Jongin asks carefully. He's tracing lines with his nails from Yifan's belly button to his shoulders and back.

“Drawer.” Yifan stretches up one of those freakishly long arms and opens his bedside table, feeling around blindly before coming up with a little bottle of lube. “Uh, are we – ”

Jongin pats his chest. “Trust me.” He pulls the lube out of Yifan's fingers and slicks up his hand. “Let's just start you out easy, okay?” Yifan settles back, looking a little uneasy, and Jongin shuffles forward until he's settled between Yifan's thighs again.

He starts by trailing a finger up the underside of Yifan's cock, biting his lip when Yifan jerks, inhaling sharply. Jongin doesn't have the patience to tease, though, so he follows through by gripping his cock firmly, stretching out again so he can kiss Yifan.

Yifan turns instinctively towards him, and he alternates between kissing back, hard, and panting into Jongin's mouth. Like this, he's kind of amazing, a flush spreading across his pale chest, fingers squeezing Jongin's biceps tight as his hips jerk up into Jongin's fist in minute movements, like he can't help himself. It's got Jongin hard as hell, rutting against Yifan's thigh just for a little friction.

“But you – ” Yifan pants, looking down at where Jongin's grinding against him.

Jongin nods, breathlessly. “Hold on.” He spreads a bit more lube on his hand, he's always liked it wet, and then he grabs one of Yifan's hands and does the same. Shifting to get comfortable, he lines himself up so he can wrap their hands around both of them at once. Yifan exhales shakily as their cocks slide together, following Jongin's lead and curling his fingers on top of Jongin's.

“Okay,” Yifan pants. “Yeah, I like this.” It's better like this, slick and hot and Yifan's big hand is just the right kind of firm. Jongin moans, pushing his face into Yifan's throat as their hands work in tandem. He can barely hold himself up above Yifan, but Yifan does seem to mind when Jongin lets himself fall against his chest. His free arm comes up to hold Jongin there, their mouths meeting again.

Jongin's already so close. It's been a while since he was last with someone, and he can't deal with it all, with Yifan's body under his, the smell of his expensive cologne and the wet press of his long fingers on their cocks. “Jesus, hyung, I'm gonna –” He can't even get the words out but Yifan doesn't seem to mind, his hand speeding up and tightening until Jongin is gasping and coming over their interlocked hands, eyes squeezed shut tight.

Yifan strokes them through it, his forehead pressed to Jongin's cheekbone as Jongin rides it out. When he's caught his breath again, Jongin is all over Yifan, snaking a hand up to lace in Yifan's hair and twisting his other wrist, determined to bring Yifan off, and quickly. It doesn't take much longer. Yifan's hand stutters before he lets go, settling instead on gripping Jongin's hip so hard their will probably be bruises.

He shouts Jongin's name when he comes, and Jongin's heart speeds up all over again.

Jongin grabs a shirt off the floor to clean them up, figuring that Yifan was not the type of guy who wants to sleep in messy sheets, drunk or not. He's almost done when Yifan sees what he's using and groans, slapping a hand to his forehead. “That's silk,” he says mournfully, and Jongin's eyes widen. Uh oh. “I liked that shirt.” He doesn't look too concerned, though.

“Sorry,” Jongin says, earnestly, but Yifan just pulls him down.

“Guess you'll just have to figure out a way to pay me back,” he suggests, and Jongin grins. That sounds like a plan.

He rests his head on Yifan's chest and listens to his heartbeat slow down. This is, well, kind of nice. He's almost nodding off when the door swings open. “Shit,” Yifan says, scrambling to drag the sheet up over them.

“Are you done?” The face that pokes around the door is plastered with a giant, cat-like grin. “Listen, duizhang, I'm super happy that you finally got some, and maybe now you'll stop walking around like there's a stick up your ass –” Yifan squawks indignantly and Jongin chuckles, burying his face in Yifan's pillow. “But the beer ran out, so we're breaking out your vodka. Just thought I'd let you know!”

“Jongdae!” Yifan bellows, but Jongdae is already gone, slamming the door behind him and laughing. Yifan flops backwards with a huff, running a hand through his hair. “My roommate is terrible.” He twists to look at Jongin. “Do you have anyplace to be in the morning?” The casual tone to his voice isn't quite natural, and Jongin grins.

He thinks about early morning dance practice, about the breakfast he promised Kyungsoo, and he shrugs. Kyungsoo's a good dude. He'll understand. “Nope,” he says easily.

Yifan hooks a possessive hand around Jongin's shoulders. “Well, good.” Jongin's ears might flush red when Yifan presses his lips to the top of his head, but he'd never admit it. 


End file.
